“I forgot to tell you about the cat,” she rushed out. “Don’t let her out, I mean watch out for her. Her name is Patches.” She broke off then took a step back and sighed. “I’m babbling again.”
He smiled to reassure her. “I’ll look out for Patches and make sure the bogeyman didn’t get her either.”
“Oh, the key. You’ll need the key.” She hastily dug into her bag, her face drawn into a frustrated frown. Finally she pulled out a key ring that sported three keys and thrust it in his direction. “You’ll need them all. I mean, there are two dead bolts and the regular lock.”
He raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything as he turned to the door. She was careful. He’d give her that.
After a few moments of figuring out which key went where, he pushed open the door and stepped inside. Patches meowed from her position on the couch and then laid her ears flat when she figured out Garrett was a stranger.
Garrett glanced around, noting the bareness of the room. It wasn’t much more updated than his own, though he did note she’d gotten the better draw. And she had a TV. Silence blanketed the house. Only the sounds of his footsteps echoed as he made his way down the hallway to the bedroom. He peeked in the bathroom, surprised that it wasn’t littered with girly paraphernalia. Then he entered the bedroom, taking note of the pristinely made bed and the fact that wasn’t so much as a shoe on the floor.
Neat freak. God save him.
Nothing out of place. In fact, nothing was in place. He glanced at the still-packed suitcase to the side of her bed. She was living out of her suitcase. Not even her toiletries were unpacked and in the bathroom.
She was prepared to run at a moment’s notice.
If he thought she wasn’t fully aware of the situation she was in, he was wrong. Resnick was wrong. This was a woman who knew full well that her time could be limited. She lived and breathed fear, waiting each minute for her world to upend.
Christ, that was no way to live.
Anger boiled up in his throat until the taste of acid was strong on his tongue. And frustration. He was intensely frustrated by not knowing everything. Resnick hadn’t done his job worth shit, because Garrett was faced with a woman with secrets. And he needed to know every damn piece of her past if he was going to figure out the best way to handle Sarah.
If she’d witnessed a murder, it wasn’t all that had happened. Someone had hurt her or scared the hell out of her, and it enraged him. Yeah, she was a job and he took each and every job seriously. He took his duty damn seriously. But the surge of protectiveness he felt whenever he looked at this scared, fragile woman went beyond that of a job. And he was at a loss to explain it.
He turned and finished his sweep of the house. Though he noted the two dead bolts on the front door, the windows in the house were completely unsecure. It would be a cakewalk to get through any of them, although he did notice that she’d moved the dresser directly in front of the window in the bedroom. It blocked any and all view, but then she wasn’t here for the scenery.
He walked back outside, where Sarah stood clutching her bag like a lifeline. “All clear.”
Her shoulders drooped and relief washed over her face. “Thank you.”
He waited for the inevitable dismissal. For her to walk past him, go inside and close the door behind her. But she just stood there, staring at the entrance like she was trying to gather the courage to take that first step.
“Hey,” he said gently, “I have an idea.”
Her gaze swung to him and she blinked, almost as if she’d forgotten his presence.
“I stocked up on groceries after I got here. I think I wiped out most of the meat from the market. Why don’t I head over, get all the fixings then come back and grill us a steak. You like beer? I have a good stock of that.”
She was surprised by his offer and equally unsure of what to say. She frowned and then pressed her lips together. She glanced down the beach at his house then back to him as she battled her indecision.
“Thought it might be good to have company until you’ve settled down from your fright. It’ll make your cottage less scary.”
“Yes,” she murmured. She took a deep breath. “Okay. Thank you. A steak sounds nice.”
He smiled, and careful not to crowd into her space, he descended the steps and started for his cottage. When he reached the beach, he turned to find her watching him.
“Give me just a few minutes and I’ll be back. You can wait out here for me if you prefer not to go in alone.”
A smile crept over her mouth, lifting the corners until he saw the flash of her teeth. “Thank you.”
CHAPTER 7
SARAH eased her bag onto the steps and then rubbed her hands up and down her arms to ward off the chill. The sun beat down on her but she still felt cold on the inside. She watched as Garrett sauntered down the beach, his pace unhurried.
He was a puzzle to her. He seemed so big and intense yet he was laid-back and ... casual. Easygoing. It didn’t compute. He should terrify her, and in some ways he did. And yet the idea of him being in her cottage even for a little while sent waves of relief down her spine.
“He saved you, dumbass,” she muttered. “It’s the rescue syndrome. You feel safe because he saved your ass.”
And now she’d invited him in. To her house. To a place she should feel safe. Idiot.
Her hands shook and nausea rose, sharp and overwhelming. She looked at the door to her cottage and then back down the beach where Garrett had disappeared. Then making a decision, she hurried up the steps, ducked into the cottage and closed the door behind her. She leaned heavily on it, her heart slamming against her chest like a fist.
She pried open one eye to see Patches on the couch watching her as she bathed a paw. Sarah walked over to the couch and collapsed beside the cat. Her bag hit the floor with a thump and she sat there, head turned up so she stared at the ceiling.
“I’m a mess, kitty. One big ball of mess. I can’t live like this.”
Tears pricked her eyelids and she blinked, refusing to let even one fall. The time for crying was over. It didn’t do anything other than bring back the feeling of abject helplessness.
The knock on the door startled her. She shook her head at her idiocy. It was just Garrett. Garrett, who she was supposed to have waited for on the porch. Garrett, who she’d agreed to have dinner with.
She sat there for a minute, indecision wracking her mind.
“Sarah, it’s me, Garrett. Can you come grab one of these bags?”
The request acted like a slap in the face. She lurched to her feet and hurried over to open the door, forgetting that she planned to hide in the house and ignore him when he came over. Yeah, that was mature.
She swung the door open to see him looming in the doorway, his arms full. She reached for the bag on top, which leaned precariously, and pulled it away. She stepped back but he didn’t make a move to enter. He just looked at her while she fidgeted like a moron.
“Come in,” she invited, stepping back again.
He smiled and walked past her. “Mind if I put these on your table?”
She hurried around him to put her own bag down. “No, go right ahead. Whatever you need. The fridge is over there.” She pointed at the obvious and then felt ridiculous. “Of course it’s there. Hard to miss.”
Garrett plopped the stuff down on the table and then turned to her. His expression was serious but he didn’t make a move toward her. “Relax, Sarah. You don’t have to be nervous. If you aren’t comfortable with me being here, I can go. No problem.”
Was this guy for real? He was so calm and ... unthreatening. Which, God, she needed. She couldn’t do threatening right now. She needed something sturdy. Something to believe in even if just for the space of a dinner.